RocketMan
by Miss Meh
Summary: Jim Kirk programmed the computer system for the starship, Enterprise. When one of the crewmen on the Enterprise's first mission to Mars is injured, Starfleet asks Jim to step in. Kirk/Spock AU, fusion with RocketMan.
1. Part 1

Summary: Jim Kirk programmed the computer system for the starship, _Enterprise_. When one of the crewmen on the _Enterprise's_ first mission to Mars is injured, Starfleet asks Jim to step in. Kirk/Spock AU, fusion with RocketMan.

A/N: RocketMan has always been a favorite of my family's. It is hilarious; if any of you haven't seen it, you should. The basic premise of the movie is that a totally weird computer programmer (who lives with his parents) goes on the first manned mission to Mars. This story has the same basic plotline, but I put my own twist on it.

I started this fic forever ago. It was supposed to be a oneshot, but it's been sitting on my computer unfinished, and I realized that I needed to post what I had or it would never get finished. So, I'm posting it now. Let me know what you guys think. :) By the way, at the moment, the rating is for language. I haven't yet figured out whether or not I'll be able to fit any X-rated moments into this fic, but if you guys have an opinion on the matter one way or another, tell me.

Oh, and for any of you who read Looking For Shooting Stars, I just want to let you know that I'm working on it and it will be out soon. XD

* * *

**RocketMan Part 1**

It had started when he was a kid, his fascination with space. He supposed it was a natural side effect of being a Kirk. His parents had gone to space. His brother had gone to space. Hell, his dad had been _killed_ in space. They were all Kirks. Jim was a Kirk. The whole damn _need_ to go to space seemed to come with the territory.

Jim still hadn't done it though. Sure he had dreamed about it enough when he was younger. He'd even gone so far as to climb into their old-fashioned washing machine and set it to spin on a timer with a blown-up picture of Earth plastered to the glass window so that he could pretend he was there, in space, saving the ship from catastrophe.

Suffice it to say, he hadn't done it again after his mother found him, realized what he was doing, and started sobbing at the thought of him going off into space to get killed like his dad had. It hadn't taken him long to realize that his mother was fucking _terrified _of the thought of him joining Starfleet and leaving her for space. It had tortured him for a while. He had fought with himself over it. Should he give up on his dreams, or should he ignore his mother's distress and do what he wanted, what made _him_ happy?

The choice was made for him when Sam left. His mother had had a fucking breakdown over it, and Jim had known what he needed to do. He never wanted to see his mother like that again; the only option was for him to stay, to take care of her like she needed him to.

And so he did. He started fucking around with computers when he was fourteen, and somehow, eight years later, ended up getting a name as one of the foremost experts in the industry.

Jim wouldn't say that he was the happiest man alive, but he enjoyed what he did and overall wasn't dissatisfied with his life. That's not to say that Jim didn't still think about space sometimes—he really did think it was in his blood—but it was easy enough to suppress those urges by picturing his mother's face. He did, however, still follow any news he could find concerning Starfleet and space in general. It was one of his guilty pleasures.

Which is how he ended up coming across Commander Spock, the only Vulcan currently employed by Starfleet.

Vulcans were an oddly logical, pointy-eared race of humanoids that had been discovered living beneath the sands of the Sahara Desert a little over half a century ago. The genealogical connection between Vulcans and humans was so distant that for over twenty years after their emergence from the desert, it had been thought impossible for the two to intermix.

That is until one of the Vulcans managed to conceive a child with his human wife. A child who just so happened to grow up to be Commander Spock, the first Vulcan to ever join Starfleet.

Spock was… amazing, and Jim wasn't ashamed to admit that he had a bit of a crush on him, even before looking up a picture of him on the web. His looks certainly didn't hurt though. The guy was so fucking gorgeous, he even made the traditional Vulcan bowl cut look sexy, and that was a feat Jim had believed to be impossible. Aside from that, Spock was also brilliant as hell and had climbed up the ranks of Starfleet faster than anyone in the history of the organization. Jim had read all of his science journals, his mission reports, and anything else he could get his hands on. Fuck, just thinking about it got him hard.

His epic crush wasn't helped by his complete lack of a sex life. Jim was sure the whole thing would have blown over and become a simple case of hero worship if he was getting some. Unfortunately though, aside from suppressing his desire for space, his mother was also extremely talented at deflating hard-ons and squashing his sex life entirely.

Jim had thought about just moving out and getting a place of his own, but truthfully, it really wasn't worth it. The last time he tried it, she had gone into a depression so severe that he had only barely been able to bring her out of it when he had finally moved back in. He really, really _hated_ seeing her like that, and while it would be nice to get laid more than twice a year, he wouldn't consider exchanging his mother's life for it, even at his most desperate.

Anyway, the lack of sex definitely didn't help his attraction to Spock, for all that he had never met and would probably _never _meet the guy. The only thing it did do was make him surly, so much so in fact that he was almost always acting like a complete asshole. Even if he was the best in the industry when it came to computer programming, none of his coworkers wanted to be around him because between the sexual frustration and dealing with his mother, he was a fucking nightmare to work with.

And Jim was trying to work on that. He really was. But the more he got used to being separate from his peers, to going home to finding no one waiting for him aside from his mother, the harder it was for him to give a shit that nobody liked him. Sure, he could force himself to change his asshole-ish ways, but by that point, the damage was already done so it would be a complete waste of effort on his part.

So, instead, he went about his life, taking care of his mother and doing his job. It seemed to Jim as though things would go on unchanging forever, and he wasn't sure if he should be comforted by the familiarity or upset over the fact that _this_ was what his life would amount to.

By the time he was twenty-five, he still hadn't made a decision one way or the other. The good news was that things had taken a turn for the better in the past year. Jim had been put in charge of designing the computer system for Starfleet's new starship, _Enterprise_. He would never admit it to any of his colleagues or his mother (telling her that he was working on anything involving Starfleet would probably bring on another breakdown), but he was more excited about this project than he had been about anything he had ever worked on before. Just the thought that something _he_ created would be going up into space soothed a part of the ache that had been growing since he had abandoned his dreams all those years before. Jim had sent off the finished version to Starfleet just last month, and he couldn't have been prouder of himself.

That is, until the day he'd come into his office to find several very familiar and unexpected people waiting for him.

It had been a rather shitty day already for it only being just past eight o'clock in the morning. His mother had been more… clingy than usual when he was leaving for work that morning, practically begging (without actually begging, of course) for him to stay with her. Jim knew he really should have expected it.

It was his fucking birthday again—the day his dad died—which was, in his opinion, the worst fucking day of the year.

Every year, Jim called his aunt to babysit his mother while he went out and worked himself to death before going to a bar, drinking heavily, and trying to get laid (he always failed). This system usually worked just fine, but his aunt had been late arriving that morning and Winona had decided to get out of bed early.

It had not been pleasant. His mom had almost been crying by the time he finally got out the door. The image would probably haunt him for the rest of the day.

Then, of course, he'd hit every fucking red light on his way there and been pulled over and given a fucking ticket by one of those stupid all-seeing robo-cops. He couldn't even bat his eyelashes and put on the charm with those fuckers, so there was no getting out of it.

Suffice it to say, Jim was _not_ in a good mood by the time he stormed in (late) to work. He was muttering a stream of nearly unintelligible curses under his breath as he threw open and subsequently slammed shut the door of his office. He threw his bag to one side and slammed his hands down on his desk, letting out a huff of frustration. Fuck, he was pissed.

There was probably no chance of him getting any work done today, but hell if he wasn't going to try. He sighed. Easier said than done.

Jim was trying to purge all thoughts of his mother's tear-streaked face when he heard a throat clear behind him. He spun around, and the "What the fuck?" was already out of his mouth before he registered just who it was that was behind him.

Spock. "Shit."

What the fuck was Spock doing in his office? If Jim were the type of person to have panic attacks, he would be hyperventilating.

Jim's office was decorated in a rather… unconventional way. When he had first set it all up, it had been a bit of an inside joke on himself. Then, he ended up leaving it the way it was because: 1) he was too lazy to take everything down, and 2) he was kind of a masochist and liked torturing himself with what he couldn't have.

There were large posters of space covering the walls, but that wasn't the part that he was worried about. It was the pictures—more specifically, the pictures of Spock—that were freaking him the fuck out. They were all over the place, and there was absolutely no way in hell Spock hadn't seen them. Not that there weren't other pictures up there too. Jim had several pictures of his parents, both in and out of uniform, and one of his brother's family that he had put up after he and Sam had made peace a year or two back.

He had to admit that the pictures of Spock were a bit more numerous than the rest though and larger too. God, he was fucked.

Jim heard snickering and finally noticed that Spock wasn't alone. Great. Just fucking great.

He recognized the other two men as Admiral Nero and Lieutenant… Well, he couldn't remember the second guy's name, but it didn't really matter. What _did _matter was the fact that he knew that all three of the people currently standing in his office were assigned to the _Enterprise's _first mission. Nero was the admiral in charge of ground operations, Spock was the mission commander, and… Damn it! Who the _fuck_ was that other guy, and why couldn't Jim remember his name?

If they were here, he was sure as hell that they were going to say that there was something wrong with the system he had designed. Why else would they be here?

Jim _knew_ there wasn't a fucking problem with that system. He had spent the better part of a god damned year working on that operating system, and he was fucking proud of it. Jim was usually anal when it came to his programming, but he had gone beyond overboard with the _Enterprise_ project. He had gone over each and every line of code with a fucking microscope before handing it over to be checked for glitches. He had fixed every flaw and made sure everything was perfect. There was no way he could have messed up something this important.

Jim tried to compose himself. There was no use getting angry before he really knew what they wanted. "What can I do for you gentlemen?" he asked calmly.

Admiral Nero cleared his throat. "Hello, James. I'm Nero. This is…"

"I know who you are," Jim interrupted impatiently, not caring in the slightest just how rude he was sounding at the moment. "What I want to know is why you're _here_ in my office."

Nero seemed taken aback for a moment but was quick to collect himself, settling his expression back into what seemed to be its default arrogant sneer. "We have been running simulations to get the Mars mission team familiar with the new operating system. The _Enterprise_ has crashed into Mars the past ten times we ran the simulation. Some of us…" Nero glanced over at the unnamed lieutenant. "…think it may have a glitch."

Jim was _pissed_. "Like hell it does! I programmed it myself." He turned on the asshole that was pointing the finger at his beloved system. "Don't blame me for your mistakes, Cupcake."

Cupcake's face turned a rather unhealthy looking shade of purple, and he bared his teeth at Jim. Jim just smirked and hoped the new nickname pissed the guy off; he was stuck with it now.

"Petty squabbling is illogical," Spock interjected, cutting short Jim's staring contest with Lieutenant Cupcake. "The program persists in miscalculating our orbital entry trajectories. We are in possession of a data storage receptacle containing the pertinent information. It would be most advisable to work together to facilitate the discovery of a cause for the current predicament so that we may remedy it."

Fuck. Jim had been working hard to make himself forget that Spock was in the room so that he would be able to maintain some sense of dignity. The damned Vulcan just _had to_ go and remind him of his presence, and by _speaking_ no less. If Jim had thought the guy was captivating with his mouth closed, it was nothing compared to the combination of the _eyes _and the _body_ and that god damned _voice_. He shivered. Shit, he felt helpless against it.

"Hey moron," Cupcake snapped, waving a hand in front of Jim's face. "Stop obsessing over the Commander and fix the problem."

Jim glared at him, but took the disc Spock had offered him. Turning around, Jim sank down in the chair before inserting the disc. He reached over and picked up his black, thick-framed glasses, putting them on while his computer was loading. Data from the most recent Mars simulation appeared on his monitor and Jim scanned it carefully, trying to pinpoint the problem. When he finally spotted it, he had to work very hard to keep the smirk off of his face until _after_ he had cross-checked it against the rest of the data.

"There's your problem," Jim proclaimed cheerfully. "Cupcake has been running his equations to include gravitational effect, varying as the inverse cube of the distance." Cupcake spluttered as Jim continued, grinning, "Look, I'll show you." He started typing as he spoke. "I'll input the same calculations using what I like to call 'The Right Way' and initiate the Mars landing sequence." Jim shot a smug look at Cupcake as he did so and the _Enterprise _model he had used for testing purposes began rotating in a perfectly level, circular orbit. "Would you look at that!" He exclaimed in excitement that was only half-faked as he watched the model lower itself to his desk. "A _perfect_ landing."

Suddenly he was being pushed out of the way by a muttering Cupcake. The man violently punched his own numbers into the computer, taking his frustration out on Jim's poor keyboard. He gave Jim a nasty grin as the _Enterprise_ was lifted back up into orbit where it once again began spinning in a perfect circle.

"See," Cupcake preened, turning to face Spock and Nero. "I told you it was the computer."

The smug look didn't last long. Not five seconds after his announcement, the _Enterprise_ began spinning wildly out of control. Nero's face contorted into something that looked incredibly close to disgust, and as Cupcake turned back to see what he was staring at, Jim's precious model _Enterprise_ flailed uncontrollably and smashed to pieces against the side of the other man's head.

* * *

Things were relatively normal again for the next week or so. Jim hadn't had any more surprise visitors waiting to greet him when he came into work in the morning, his mother hadn't had an episode since his birthday, and on the whole, everything was going surprisingly well.

The only dark spot Jim could see on his unusually bright sunshiny mood was the fact that he didn't have a project of his own to work on at the moment. He hadn't had any major programming to do since he had completed his work on the _Enterprise_, and as a result, his current "supervisor"—as the man's predecessors had warned, you didn't manage Jim Kirk, you put up with him—had finally put him to work de-bugging other people's programs when it became apparent that no new projects were forthcoming. The idiot had even referred to it as a vacation when breaking the news to him in the hopes that he would actually do what he was told for once.

Jim's efforts to weasel his way into someone else's project had been futile, and so, he had settled in and resigned himself to finding the flaws in other people's work. Once he did so, he actually found it to be a bit relaxing for a while. After all of the effort he had put into his pride and joy, it _had_ been a bit nice to not to have to think while at work.

But then, Jim got through the first hour of his so-called "vacation" and realized that he _had_ to find something new. Contrary to popular belief, not thinking did not suit Jim at all, and as a result, he was going out of his mind from boredom.

So far, Jim hadn't had even a little bit of luck finding a new project. Instead, he unenthusiastically completed his program testing each day and then sat in his office, spinning his chair in slow circles while staring at the ceiling until it was time for him to go home for the day.

He was at the tail end of this routine on the day he got the call. Though he probably shouldn't have been, Jim was relieved an almost excited when he heard Admiral Nero's voice on the line. By that point, he would take anything to break up the monotony, even if he had to sit through Starfleet personnel belittling his program. Sure, they were probably going to try to tear new holes in his baby, but Jim knew that his defense was sound; his shields were at one hundred percent, and there was no way any of those smug bastards at Starfleet were going to get through them.

Jim grabbed his helmet, locked up his office, and walked out to his motorcycle, not bothering to tell his supposed superiors where he was going. He had all of his work done, so those assholes didn't have the right to complain.

He made a face at his helmet as he slipped it on. It wasn't that he was adverse to safety, and if he was being honest, the protection the shield provided from bugs was invaluable, but whenever he looked at that damn helmet, all he could think about was his mother. When he had originally started talking about getting a motorcycle, Winona had started crying. She said that Jim was going to get himself killed, and that obviously meant that he didn't care about her. Faced with a sobbing mother, Jim had done the only thing he could think of to placate her: he had assured her that he would never ride without wearing his helmet. It was a promise that he had not broken, not even once, but sometimes, Jim just wanted to get on his bike and ride. He wanted to feel the wind through his hair; he wanted to be free from the cage he had allowed his mother to construct around him. He just wanted to be Jim for a while without the added complications his mother brought.

Jim shook himself to clear his head of these thoughts. They were pointless, really. Jim knew no reality outside of the current clusterfuck that was his life, and at this point, he wasn't even sure what he would do with freedom if he had it.

Jim gunned his engine and roared out of the parking lot, looking forward to the blissful silencing of his thoughts that usually came when he was riding his motorcycle. It would take him ten minutes to get to Starfleet headquarters, and he planned to take advantage of it.

Unfortunately, Jim's mind refused to be quiet, and by the time he reached his destination, Jim was ready to give Nero hell. How dare they say one bad word about his operating system? He had proved, beyond a shadow of a fucking doubt, that his baby wasn't the one responsible for that god damned "glitch" they had pinned on her. Like hell was he going to sit around and let his programming skills be slandered.

When he stormed through the front doors—which was much less dramatic than it sounded considering they were automatic sliding glass doors—he found Nero standing in the lobby waiting for him and stopped short. The man was… smiling at him.

It wasn't all that reassuring. Actually, it was kind of creepy.

"James Tiberius Kirk!" Nero boomed. "Good to see you. Come this way." The admiral beckoned him toward a set of doors.

"Where are we going?" Jim asked warily. This was not at all what he had been expecting when he received that phone call, and it was putting him on edge.

"We need to test you," Nero explained without really explaining.

"What for?" Jim demanded. What _the fuck_ could the possibly be testing him for?

"We need to see if you have what it takes for space travel. Ga… ah, _Cupcake…_" he corrected, winking at Jim. "…was injured to such an extent by the stunt he pulled in your office that he is unable to perform his duties. He has been pulled from the mission." Nero sighed. "Since the _Enterprise_ is set to launch in a month, we need someone who knows the system, or we will have to postpone the mission." The man gave him a sharp look. "I _really_ don't want to do that, James. With conditions on Mars being what they are, we won't be able to send another mission up there for at least _two years_ if we postpone."

Jim was stunned speechless. They wanted him to go into space? He might actually have a chance to live his dream. It was so close, he could almost taste it. He, James Tiberius Kirk, could go into space. It wasn't too late. He could make his mother proud. He could…

And then reality came crashing back into place.

His mother wouldn't be _proud_ of him. She would be devastated. She would have another nervous breakdown.

He couldn't possibly go. There was no way he could just up and leave his mother on Earth alone, especially not if she was in the condition he was sure she would be in if he left. He had no choice; he had to tell Starfleet no.

"Admiral Nero, I am honored that you even considered me," Jim said as graciously as he was able. "But, I'm going to have to decline your offer. I…" He tried to continue, to explain that there were unfortunate circumstances that prevented him from leaving the planet, or hell, even having a life of his own.

Before he could, however, Nero was turning toward him and interrupting. "Look kid, I don't give a crap about you or your hang-ups. I need to get this mission off the ground, and I don't care what I have to do to get it done. My whole career is resting on this launch, and you aren't going to screw it up for me."

"You and your career goals can go fuck yourselves, _sir_," Jim spat back before turning without another word and storming away.

* * *

Jim was lost.

He had obviously made a wrong turn somewhere because he was now even further into the Starfleet complex, and he had no idea how to find his way out. Shit. All he wanted to do was get the fuck out of there so that he didn't have to think about the chance he was missing out on.

He was so preoccupied with finding his way out of the stupid maze that was Starfleet headquarters that he didn't even realize that he wasn't alone until an emotionless voice spoke behind him.

"Mr. Kirk. May I ask what you are doing in my laboratory?"

Jim spun on his heel and faced Spock, his shock most likely clearly written on his face. "This is…" Jim liked to think that surprise (and not his nervousness at once again facing the object of his infatuation) was what made his voice break. He cleared his voice and tried again. "This is your lab?"

"I believe I just made that clear, Mr. Kirk. Now if you would please inform me as to why you have entered my laboratory unaccompanied. I was under the impression that Admiral Nero was going to be taking you to test your aptitude for innovation and your ability to tolerate conditions requisite to space travel."

Spock tilted his head and narrowed his eyes at Jim, as though considering him. Jim had never felt more like an amoeba under a microscope. He swallowed, unable to find his voice for a moment, before opening his mouth and forcing something to come out. "I rejected the Admiral's offer to join your mission. He got pissed at me and, well, I don't put up with people giving me shit for things that aren't even my fault. So I left." He shrugged as if to say, 'What else could I do?' "I kinda got lost though and ended up here. Do you think you could tell me how to get out of here?"

Spock didn't answer for a second, and when he finally did, he completely ignored Jim's question in favor of asking one of his own. "Why have you decided not to accompany us to Mars? I have been led to believe that many humans would jump at the chance to go to another planet. Is this not the case?"

"It isn't that," Jim said quickly. "I would love to go to space someday. I just…" He hesitated. Jim usually didn't go into his family situation with anyone he didn't have to, but he didn't want Spock to think that he was afraid of space or something like that. He had his pride, after all. "My dad died in space, and my mom, well, she's never recovered. She has a nervous breakdown every time I leave the house. I would probably end up killing her if I tried to go into space."

A strange look passed through Spock's eyes—something Jim might have called understanding if it weren't a Vulcan he was talking to—and he nodded. "My parents were not pleased with my decision to join Starfleet. Though my own mother was much quicker to forgive, my father and I are still not on speaking terms. I suppose it is the same in every culture, but eventually all children must forge their own path in life."

Jim stared at the Vulcan for a moment before realizing that Spock thought he was subtly giving him advice on the matter, when in reality he had fairly blatantly told Jim that it was time for him to cut the apron strings. Jim had to forcibly make himself _not_ laugh out loud. He was getting life advice from _Mr. Spock_. His life sure was fucking surreal sometimes.

When it became clear that Jim had no response to his words, Spock continued, "It is a shame you will not be able to join us. You would have been a valuable addition to our mission." He turned away from Jim and shrugged into a white lab coat. Jim almost couldn't keep his jaw from dropping and the lust from showing in his eyes. Fuck, the guy was hot. "Go through that door and take a left. Follow that hallway for 30.82 yards and turn right. Take the first hallway to the right and you will be in the lobby. Goodbye, Mr. Kirk." The Vulcan carefully pulled on a pair of hypoallergenic disposable gloves and turned away from Jim, clearly dismissing him.

_Fuck_, Jim thought as he followed Spock's direction. He had been trying to ignore the thought that he was not only missing out on a chance at his dream but also missing out on a chance with Spock. Running into the Vulcan in his lab had brought the thought to center-focus in his mind. Though it was rather farfetched, Jim really couldn't shake the feeling that if he had stayed, if he had accepted their offer, something good would have happened. He couldn't explain it but he knew that if he went to Mars, his royally fucked up life—which had never seemed to actually belong to him—would change for the better.

Jim kept walking away from where he had left Spock. Had he stopped or let himself show even the slightest hint of hesitation, Jim would have turned around. He would have gone back to Spock and begged—fucking _begged,_ god damn it—for another chance. He couldn't let himself be that weak; he couldn't let himself give in. His mother was the only one who had ever come even close to loving him. He couldn't let her kill herself for selfish reasons.

And Jim would have made his escape had he been watching where he was going. Since he wasn't paying attention though, he ended up walking straight into a Starfleet officer.

"Fuck!" Jim exclaimed as he hit the floor. "Shit, I'm sorry," he hastily muttered. He wasn't a complete asshole; he was capable of apologizing when something was clearly his fault.

As they both picked themselves up, Jim finally got a good look at the man. _Holy Shit_. "Chris?!"

The man looked at him for a moment, assessing. "Do I…" His eyes widened. "Jimmy? Jimmy Kirk?"

Jim rubbed the back of his head and shrugged. "Yeah, I go by Jim now."

He wasn't sure how to greet this man he hadn't seen in eighteen years. Christopher Pike had been his dad's best friend and had done as well as he could by them after George had died. Jim had always been under the impression that he felt some measure of survivor's guilt since he had also been on the mission that had ended with George Kirk's death. Even though he had never put any of the blame on Chris, Jim knew that his mother had, which was the reason he stopped coming around after Jim was seven. They had had a fight—most of which consisted of Winona being irrational and Chris trying to calm her down—after which Winona had told Chris that he was not welcome in her house and if he tried to contact them there would be consequences. Jim hadn't seen him since.

"I'm glad to see you turned out all right. I was a bit worried that…" He seemed to think better of whatever he had been about to say and instead waved a hand dismissively. "You know what? Never mind. What did you end up doing with your life?"

"I'm a computer programmer." Jim felt his shoulders lift with pride as he continued, "I actually designed the operating system for the _Enterprise_."

Chris's eyes widened again. "Are you the one they asked to replace that injured Lieutenant on the Mars mission?"

All of the pride Jim had been feeling left him when he heard the man's words. "I'm the one they asked, but I told them 'no'."

"_Why_, Jim?" Chris asked incredulously.

"I can't leave Mom here by herself."

Chris just stared at him for a moment before closing his eyes. "Damn it, I was afraid something like this would happen. Winona was never quite right after George died. The way she clung to you boys just wasn't normal. Does she do this to your brother too?"

"Sam ran away and joined the Lunar colony when I was twelve. It's just me and her now," Jim informed him, somewhat grudgingly. Why the fuck did Chris care anyway? He was the one who had abandoned them. Jim knew that Winona had been the one to cut their ties with him, but Chris hadn't even _tried_ after that. Not once.

Chris sighed. "Looks like it's about time I paid Winona a visit. Do you guys still live in the same house?"

* * *

A/N: I hope you guys enjoyed the first part of RocketMan. Please review to let me know what you think. XD


	2. Part 2

Summary: Jim Kirk programmed the computer system for the starship, _Enterprise_. When one of the crewmen on the _Enterprise's_ first mission to Mars is injured, Starfleet asks Jim to step in. Kirk/Spock AU, fusion with RocketMan.

A/N: RocketMan has always been a favorite of my family's. It is hilarious; if any of you haven't seen it, you should. The basic premise of the movie is that a totally weird computer programmer (who lives with his parents) goes on the first manned mission to Mars. This story has the same basic plotline, but I put my own twist on it.

So, I wrote this chapter while on a six day business trip with my father. We spent about four of those days on a train, so I thought I would be able to get plenty written, including not only this chapter, but also the next chapter of Looking for Shooting Stars and the first chapters of new stories for both the Star Trek and the Supernatural fandoms. Unfortunately, I got sick (by the way, being sick on a train made for a miserable two days) and so only this chapter got written. For any of you who read LFSS, I'll get back to writing it as soon as possible. :)

As for this chapter, well, I'm introducing a few 'new' characters (by new, I mean new to the story, of course, since I don't really write OCs). I'm not going to tell you who 'cause I don't want to ruin it. I do hope you guys like what I've done with them, considering that this was my first time writing more than a few lines for anyone other than Jim or Spock.

Hope you guys enjoy. XD

* * *

RocketMan Part 2

Jim didn't have a fucking clue how he had gotten here.

He and Chris were at his house—in his living room, with his _mother_—and well, he knew how they had physically gotten there, but he couldn't wrap his head around how this could _possibly_ be happening.

Chris wanted to talk with her. Shit, this wasn't going to end well.

"Chris," Winona said stiffly, finally breaking what seemed to Jim to be a horribly awkward silence. "What are you doing here?"

"I ran into Jim today at Starfleet, and he mentioned that you were the reason he was rejecting the chance to go on the first manned mission to Mars," Chris replied in a very matter-of-fact tone. Jim winced as his mother's hand tightened painfully around his arm. "You were a Starfleet officer once. You know what kind of opportunity that is. And it's unheard of for the Starfleet brass to offer it to someone who doesn't even work for them."

"He's not going," she hissed. "Space is dangerous, and Starfleet can't be trusted. He'd be going to his death. It's better for him to stay here where I can make sure he's safe."

"Is that what you're doing? Making sure he's safe?" Chris repeated incredulously. "Winona, you're smothering him. You'll be lucky if he doesn't end up completely burning himself out by the time he's thirty. The kid's twenty-five; it's about time you let him make his own decisions." Jim started to open his mouth to protest that he could damn well make his own decisions just fine, thanks, but before he could do so, Chris held up a hand to silence him. "I know what you're going to say, Jim, but I'm willing to bet that she's been influencing your decisions for so long that you don't even realize she's doing it anymore. It started before she threw me out of your lives, and I'm sure that whatever she's been doing lately to keep you here amounts to little more than emotional blackmail."

"Fuck you, Chris," Winona spat. Jim stared at her in shock; his mother didn't cuss. Ever. "He's _my_ son. Who are you to come in here and spout a bunch of shit? If he wanted to leave, he would have left already. Hell, Sam left when he was sixteen. If you think for one fucking second that that boy doesn't stay because he loves me…"

"Mom, I do love you," Jim hastened to reassure her. "And as for the Starfleet thing…" he started, intending to tell her that he wasn't going to go; he wasn't going to leave her behind.

"You must not love me at all if you're even _considering_ going into space on a fucking _Starfleet_ mission!" She was yelling now. Tears started gathering in her eyes, and within moments, she was sobbing.

Jim could only look at her. Fuck, that hurt. He'd stayed with her for years when every instinct he had had as a human being had screamed at him that it was time to live his own life. He hadn't run away, like Chris had, like Sam had. He was the one person in her life who had always stood by her, and now she was saying that he didn't love her at all?

"Okay, that's enough. Jim," Chris called to him. "I think you should let your mother and I talk in private for a minute."

Jim shook his head. "She's crying," he said, aiming a glare at Chris and thinking, _This is all his fault_.

"Jim, go outside," Chris repeated, his tone firm. "I need to make some things clear to your mother. She needs to hear what I have to say." Noticing that Jim was still reluctant, he added, "I'll try not to upset her anymore."

Jim stared at him for a long moment, before finally nodding and striding out of the room. He didn't go much further than that though, instead tucking himself into an alcove on the other side of the wall. Like hell was he letting Chris talk to his mother without eavesdropping on them. He wanted to say that it was so that he could make sure Chris wasn't saying anything bad to her, but he knew himself too well to believe it. Jim was curious. What the fuck was Chris going to say to her, and how was that supposed to get him on the Mars mission?

He heard Chris sigh, and there was some shuffling as he apparently moved to sit next to Jim's mother. "Look Winona, you can't keep doing this. You need to start acting like a parent and do what's in Jim's best interest. Eventually that boy is going to get fed up with giving up his life for you. He'll leave you in favor of his own happiness, and you won't be able to do a thing to stop it." There was a pause, and all Jim heard was the soft sound of his mother crying. Chris's voice softened as he spoke the next words, and Jim had to strain his ears to hear what he said. "You aren't just hurting Jim; you're hurting yourself, too. You haven't been living, Winona. You can't keep punishing yourself. None of us could have saved him. It wasn't your fault."

That startled him. Why the fuck would his mother feel guilty for his father's death? He knew she had been on the mission, but it wasn't like there had been anything she could have done to stop it. George Kirk's death had been a combination of bad luck and heroism. It hadn't been anyone's fault.

There was a sudden silence in the other room. Curious, Jim peeked around the corner just in time to see his mother fall into Chris's arms.

* * *

His mother hadn't really told him that she was alright with him going into space, but she didn't protest when Jim told her that he was going to call Nero that day to tell him that he had reconsidered his offer. She had just stared at him with this horribly sad look in her eyes and said, "If that is what you want, Jim."

Jim didn't know what to do. His mother and her needy nature had been a constant in his life for as long as he could remember. Trying to ignore the impulse to give in to what she obviously wanted—even if she wasn't saying it for once—was growing more and more difficult. He had been doing it for so long that resisting the urge felt unnatural.

He sighed and turned away from his mother, picking up his work bag and heading toward the door. A thought hit him, and he went back to kiss her on the cheek before leaving.

Jim called Nero first thing when he finally arrived at work. He had gotten there early, so he didn't feel as though he was breaking the "no personal calls on company time" rule.

Nero picked up after three rings. "Admiral Nero speaking."

"Hello… sir," he added as an afterthought. "This is Jim Kirk. I reconsidered your offer, and I would like to accept."

Nero let out a short laugh, and even through the phone, it sounded condescending and arrogant to Jim. "Too late, Kirk. We already found someone else, so you are no longer necessary."

"Sir, you didn't even give me any time to think about it. It hasn't even been twenty-four hours," Jim said, trying very hard to reign in his outrage. What the fuck? How could they have found someone else qualified to use his software so quickly? "I'm sure if you just give me a chance to…"

"My decision is final, Kirk. Don't bother to call back." There was a _click_, and then Jim was left listening to the dial tone.

He slammed the phone back down on the cradle, a string of cuss words on his lips. Okay, he needed to calm down. He needed to think. He needed… He needed to call Chris. Chris would figure something out, or at the very least he would be someone to share his frustration with.

Jim quickly searched his pockets to find the card Chris had given him with his phone number. He pulled it triumphantly from his front right pocket, grabbed the phone again, and punched the number into it.

"Pike."

"Chris, it's Jim." A part of him really wanted to start yelling at him. This was all Chris's fault after all. If he had just let it be, Jim would have left it alone; he wouldn't have gotten his hopes up. He could have just continued on, business as usual and completely ignored the fact that he was missing out on something that had the power to change his life for the better. Instead, Chris had stuck his nose in it, and now Jim had thought he would get to experience that change for real. He really wanted to take it out on Chris, let him have it, but at the same time, he also knew he wanted to keep his relationship with Chris from crumbling anymore than it already had after he had abandoned them. Jim was _tired_ of always going it on his own, and Chris seemed willing to take some of that burden from him. The thought strengthened his resolve and allowed him to speak in a more civil tone. "Nero told me that he has already chosen someone else for the Mars mission. Do you know anything about it?"

"He did what?" Chris asked, his voice holding a note of complete incredulity. "He just offered it to you yesterday. He should have given you time to think it over. I'm going to call him and see if we can come to an agreement."

And for the second time in twenty minutes, Jim was listening to a dial tone.

It only took Chris an hour to call Jim back. By that point, Jim had already started doing his work for the day, and the ringing of the phone startled him out of his concentration. He picked it up and muttered a distracted "Kirk here," into the receiver, his thoughts still trying to puzzle out how the hell one of his fellow programmers had managed to fuck up the coding so badly.

"Jim, it's Chris. I talked to the Admiral. He wasn't too happy about it, but I got him to agree to hold trials for the spot on the Mars mission. You need to report to Starfleet by eight tomorrow morning." There was a short pause before Chris finally said, "Jim, I don't think I need to tell you that you are going to have to do everything practically perfect to get the spot. Nero was not happy about giving you a second chance. Something about you telling him that he and his career could go fuck themselves." Chris's chuckle sounded tinny in Jim's ears.

"You won't regret this, Chris. I won't fuck this up," Jim assured him. "Even if I'm still not completely sure I'm doing the right thing," he added as an afterthought.

"That's another thing," Chris told him. "I think you need to move out of your mother's house. It won't be easy on either of you to keep living together while you're still planning on going into space."

Move out? Could he even think about doing something like that? "I can't do that. The last time I tried to move out, she tried to kill herself," Jim replied, his tone hollow.

"Don't worry about your mother, Jim. I'll take care of her." Chris sighed. "I'll even move in with her myself if I have to, but you have to get out of there. I know that if you stay you'll end up letting her talk you into not going."

Jim wanted to protest, say that there was no way his mother would be able to talk him out of it, but Chris was right. Jim had allowed her to sway him on pretty much every decision he had ever made. She would eventually talk him out of going, and they both knew it.

"Fine. I'll agree you have a point. Where should I go?"

Jim could hear the smile, even if they were on the phone. "I know the perfect place."

* * *

Jim stood outside of the apartment building staring up at it, the boxes containing all of his belongings stacked around him. He knew he should start bringing things up to his new room, but he was being hit with the unexpected onset of nerves. Jim had never lived with anyone but his mother and Sam, and even the thought of living with roommates—there were two of them—was a bit daunting.

Chris slapped a hand down on his shoulder, drawing him out of his thoughts. "Come on, Jim," he said as he hefted Jim's duffle bag up onto his shoulder. "The hard part's already over. New roommates are nothing compared to that. I promise you'll like them; they're both great guys."

Chris was right. The most difficult part of all of this had been accomplished hours ago. Picking out what he did and didn't need had been tough. Packing up all of his stuff and getting it out of the house had been a pain in the ass. But the worst part by far had been saying goodbye to his mother. Winona just hadn't been able to stop crying. It seemed to him as though she had been crying from the minute Chris had talked her into letting him go into space, and the fact that Jim had then decided to move out hadn't helped matters.

It had gotten so bad that he had cold feet about the whole thing, going to Chris the day before the move and telling him that he just couldn't do it. The older man hadn't let him get away with it though, going so far as to promise that if worst came to worst, he would move in with Winona himself. Jim had stared at Chris suspiciously, but he had seemed serious enough.

Jim just couldn't understand why Chris was being so helpful. It didn't make any sense to him. In his experience, people were selfish creatures. Getting something for nothing just didn't happen.

When he had said as much to Chris, the other man had looked sheepish. "I'm not doing it for nothing, Jim. In my opinion, I wronged you by leaving when your mother told me to. While it's true that there was only so much I could have done considering my lack of blood ties to you and Sam, I know that things could have been better for you if I had stayed. All I'm doing now is correcting the mistake I made all those years ago."

Now that had made sense. Jim could understand the urge to right the wrongs of the past. It was what had led him to make up with Sam after spending so many years being so angry with him that he had refused to accept any of the lines of communication his brother had attempted to open after leaving.

As for Chris, well, Jim still harbored a bit of resentment toward him for abandoning them, but it had almost completely disappeared since he had reappeared. Though it wasn't really in his nature, Jim wanted to trust Chris. He wanted to believe that his life could change, and now it was time for him to do something about it. Nobody could change it for him; he had to be the one to take that first step.

Jim nodded at Chris, taking a deep breath before ascending the stairway leading up to his new apartment building.

Chris had been right, damn him. Jim did like living separate from his mother, and he really liked his new roommates.

Said roommates, Leonard McCoy and Pavel Chekov, were the other members of the four-man team that had been assembled for the Mars mission. McCoy was a thirty-something who had at one time been a doctor down in Georgia before he had joined Starfleet. His wife had taken him for more than he was worth and gotten custody of their only daughter, so he hadn't had very many options. Starfleet had been looking for qualified doctors to send on their missions, and despite his extreme dislike of space, he hadn't been able to pass it up.

Pavel Chekov was a boy genius from Russia with the brightest smile and the most sickeningly cute curls Jim had ever seen. He had originally joined Starfleet at fourteen, but they hadn't assigned him to any missions until he was eighteen. The Mars mission had been his first, and though it had been almost two years since he had first been assigned to it, he was apparently still just as excited as ever to be going into space. Jim could tell because every time he talked about it, his accent got just a little bit stronger.

The flat itself had originally been intended to serve as quarters for all four Starfleet officers involved in an attempt to get all of them used to living together before going into space. After their month-long trial period, Spock had gone back to his own apartment (which Jim was extremely disappointed about) while Cupcake had needed to move out after his accident (good riddance to bad rubbish). McCoy and Chekov hadn't had apartments to return to, so they had decided to stay.

He had started calling McCoy "Bones" in an effort to cheer the guy up. Jim, with his usual lack of tact, had made the mistake of asking McCoy why the hell he would decide to live in Starfleet housing with a teenager. The hurt in the man's eyes had been palpable as he muttered, "The wife took the whole damn planet in the divorce. All I had left was my bones. Starfleet housing is better than being homeless."

Bones hated his nickname. Every time Jim used it, the man would snap at him, "The name's McCoy." He still used it though. Jim wasn't the type to make fast friends, but he genuinely liked Bones and Chekov. He had always been of the opinion that being angry was better than being sad; if Jim's teasing made the guy forget about his problems for a few seconds, well, at least that was preferable to him roaming the halls weeping.

It also didn't hurt that Jim really enjoyed it. Bones was just one of those people who was way too much fun to mess with.

The day before his training and trials were to begin, Bones and Chekov invited Jim out to a local bar that was really popular with Starfleet officers. It had been a few days since he had moved in with them, and by that point, he was comfortable enough with them that going out for drinks wasn't awkward. Bones made it perfectly clear, however, that if he got drunk, there was no way in hell he was getting a hypo for his hangover.

"I prefer to see you suffer," he told him with a twitch of his lips (which, if Jim was not mistaken, was almost a smile).

"Oh fuck," Jim replied. "I'm living with a sadist."

"What d'you know? This one learns fast," he said as they entered the bar.

They quickly found a table that would fit the three of them and sat down. The bar was a bit crowded, so it was a few minutes before a waitress came up to their table to get their order.

"I'll take a beer," Jim said when prompted. "Whatever you have on draft."

"Gimme a glass of bourbon," Bones ordered. "And a Shirley Temple for the little one."

Chekov crossed his arms, and Jim would swear he saw his bottom lip poking out just a little bit further. "Alcohol was inwented in Russia, you know. We haff vodka ewery morning with breakfast. It ees not fair zhat you will not let me drink."

"Yeah, well you're in America right now, kiddo," Bones said, cutting off his complaints. "And here, the drinkin' age is twenty-one and givin' alcohol to a minor is a crime. You're shit outta luck."

"I've always thought that law was stupid myself," Jim commented. "I mean, eighteen year old kids go die in American wars, but they can't drink? Never made much sense to me."

Bones nodded. "Personally, I agree with you." Chekov's face brightened, so he added quickly, "That doesn't mean I'm willing to risk goin' to jail just so you can get a buzz."

Chekov turned to Jim, a hopeful look on his face. Jim laughed and put up his hands. "Don't look at me," he said. "I don't want to go to jail any more than he does." Chekov just looked at him for a moment, disappointment apparent on his face, before slumping back in his seat.

Jim was not as surprised as he should have been to find that he was having fun. Yeah, Bones was a total grump and Chekov sometimes seemed even younger than he actually was, but they were both fun to hang out with. What he was surprised by was how much he had missed having friends. He had never really had all that many in the first place, but those he had made hadn't stuck around after high school. They all had lives now, and they definitely didn't have time to deal with Jim, whose situation had barely changed at all.

The waitress dropped their drinks off at the table, and Chekov immediately reached for Bones bourbon. Considering how sadistic the man had turned out to be, Jim half expected Bones to slap the boy's hand (he was sure it would be a hard slap too), but instead, Bones grabbed Chekov's hand and gently put it back on his side of the table. Jim looked over at his roommates with new eyes, noticing for the first time that they were sitting way too close together on the booth bench opposite him. He wondered if they even knew what kind of vibes they were sending out at the moment.

It didn't have a purely sexual feel, though that was certainly one component of it. He couldn't identify the overall feeling, but it was a good one. It almost made him feel envious of their relationship (although he was sure neither one had acted on it yet); he wanted… well, he wasn't sure exactly what he wanted, but he was pretty sure it had something to do with Spock.

Jim sighed. He had thought that agreeing to join the mission would mean that he would be able to see the Vulcan every day, but he hadn't seen Spock at all since that time he had accidentally wandered into his lab. He was really hoping that that would change soon.

He lifted his beer to take another drink and realized that it was empty. He noticed that Bones was throwing back the last of his bourbon, and Chekov was pushing ice cubes around his liquid-less glass with his tiny cocktail straw. He glanced around and saw that the harried-looking waitress was dealing with a few drunks on the other side of the room. He could've swore he saw a flash of black hair and pointed ears, but someone stepped in front of them before he could be sure, and he was almost positive that this wasn't the kind of place a Vulcan would frequent. "I'll get the next round," he offered, gathering up the glasses so that he could bring them back to the bar.

"Thanks, Jim," they chorused as he left. He lifted a hand in acknowledgement, but didn't turn around, instead approaching the bar and setting the glasses down.

The bartender was talking to the girl next to him, and... holy shit, she was hot. Dark skin, long hair, short skirt, knee high boots. _Oh my god_, he thought. _Look at that ass._ She wasn't exactly his type—when he went for girls, he usually liked them to be smaller and sweeter, and this one was tall and looked like a spitfire—but she was too fine for him not to take any notice at all. He _was_ a guy after all (one who hadn't been laid in a _very_ long time), and it was beyond his feeble powers of self-control to resist speaking to her.

A small voice in the back of his head protested. _Spock_, it said, and while that voice had been easy enough to ignore when he hadn't even met the guy, it was not so easily ignored now. Jim brushed it aside. Sex wasn't his main objective here, so he had nothing to feel guilty about. All he wanted was a bit of flirtation. Jim had found over the years that he was a natural flirt, but the chances for him to use said skills were very few and far between. He wanted some kind of social interaction with the opposite sex and he wanted it badly.

"That's a lot of drinks for one woman." It wasn't really—she had only ordered two drinks—but who was counting?

"And a shot of Jack, straight up," she completed her order, not even turning to look at him.

Jim frowned, and tried again, "Make that two, shots on me."

"Her shots on her," she told the bartender before turning to Jim and saying, "Thanks, but no thanks."

Damn, now he remembered why he preferred the sweet ones. They at least let him buy them a drink before rejecting him. And yet… "Don't you at least want to know my name before you completely reject me?" He sent her his most flirtatious grin.

The girl ignored it. "I'm fine without it."

"You _are_ fine without it," he agreed, not bothering to keep the admiration out of his voice. "It's Jim. Jim Kirk." Another grin. "You?" She gave him a quick look, but didn't respond. "C'mon, if you don't tell me, I'm just gonna have to make one up for you."

"It's Uhura," she reluctantly admitted. Jim did an internal victory dance and let his grin grow just a fraction wider.

"Uhura! No way!" he exclaimed. "That's the name I was gonna make up for you. Uhura what?"

"Just Uhura," she replied, her tone telling him not to push it.

"Okay, 'Just Uhura', what do you do for a living?"

She graced him with a confident smile. "I am a systems infrastructure analyst with a specialization in linguistics and communications." Uhura paused and looked at him for a moment before adding, "You have no idea what that means."

Jim let out a short laugh. "It means you're a fixer. You can look through the hardware of an entire computer network and tell exactly which part is malfunctioning." He let a lecherous grin overtake his face. "Your specializations just means that you have a talented tongue."

"I'm impressed," Uhura said drily, not looking impressed in the least. "For a moment there, I thought you were just a dumb hick who only has sex with farm animals."

Jim could see that she was trying to keep a straight face, but the twitching of her lips was giving her away. Finally, she was starting to flirt back. "Well…" He drew the word out. "Not only."

Uhura laughed, and Jim felt his heart skip a beat. Sure, she totally wasn't his type, but she did have a beautiful laugh. He knew it couldn't go beyond flirtation though; this girl would chew him up and spit him out if he even tried to seriously make a move on her. Sleeping with her was definitely out of the question.

The bartender interrupted to pass her the drinks she had ordered and accept her money. Uhura smiled at him as she passed, and he couldn't help but smile back before turning to give the bartender his order.

* * *

A good hour or so later, Jim found himself in a spirited discussion of space travel with Bones and Chekov. The only one who wasn't the least bit enthused about it was Bones, who was of the opinion that space was "disease and danger, darkness and silence". Jim had laughed at that (he was a little bit tipsy at that point) because it was such a Bones thing to say something like that. It was fucking hilarious.

He was in the middle of taking a drink when he spied a lithe male form making its way toward them through the crowd. Oh, shit. Spock really was here. He choked on his beer and started spluttering. _Just great,_ Jim thought. _Not only is Spock here, but he also gets to see me acting like a jackass. Fucking terrific._

He was wiping the beer off of his chin when he noticed that Uhura was following the Vulcan. They knew each other? It just kept getting better and better.

Spock stopped in front of their table, his hands seeming to go naturally to clasp behind his back. "Lieutenants," he addressed Bones and Chekov. His eyes turned to Jim, and the human felt his heartbeat speed up as their eyes met. "Jim Kirk."

Wow, Jim had never noticed just how brown the man's eyes were. He had always thought they were black because from a distance black is exactly the color they looked. But now… Now, they looked like melted chocolate. He felt like he could fall into them and drown and be perfectly happy for the rest of his life. He licked his lips and leaned toward Spock unconsciously and…

"What ya doin' here, Spock? This isn't a place I'd expect to find a hobgoblin." Bones asked, breaking into Jim's thoughts. Jim quickly straightened back up in his seat and looked around, his face flushed, hoping that no one had noticed. Spock was as stoic as ever, but judging by the look on Uhura's face, she _had_ noticed, and she wasn't happy about it.

"Must I once again remind you that I am a Vulcan, not a hobgoblin?" Spock inquired.

"Kinda like I'm a doctor, not a miracle worker? You don't see the distinction, so I don't either," Bones replied stubbornly. "Now answer the question."

"I was having dinner with a colleague." Spock inclined his head toward Uhura. "My companion is Nyota Uhura."

Jim leaned forward in interest. "So your name isn't 'Just Uhura' then?" Jim asked, a teasing glint in his eye. "You lied to me. I'm so disappointed."

A reluctant grin tugged at her lips. "Women like to keep an air of mystery," she confessed. "I am no exception."

Out of the corner of his eye, Jim saw Chekov's face brighten. "Indeed. Zhat technique was inwented in Russia," he declared. "Russian ladies are zhe best when eet comes to meestery."

Everybody, excepting Spock of course, turned bewildered looks on poor, misguided Chekov. Jim grinned at him and reached across the table to clap him on the shoulder. "True enough. I met this Russian woman once and, well, she had enough mystery to… Actually, now that I think about it, she probably _was_ a spy."

Now everyone was staring at him, most of their expressions torn between amused and disbelieving. Jim just smirked, surreptitiously peaking at Spock in an attempt to figure out what his non-reaction meant. Of course, Vulcans were known for their poker faces, and Jim hadn't known Spock for long enough to be able to read him yet. As a result, Jim had no clue what was going on beneath that bowl cut.

Jim shook his head and focused back on Uhura. He sent a grin her way and raised his eyebrows in a 'come hither' gesture. "So, _Nyota_, what are your plans for the rest of the night?" Jim asked, his voice teasing.

Uhura rolled her eyes. "Wouldn't you like to know?" she replied tauntingly.

"I think I'm gonna be sick," Bones muttered.

Jim turned back to face him. "Had too much to drink, Bones?" He didn't believe it for a minute. They'd only had four rounds, and Bones had told him right off the bat—well, okay, Jim had _maybe _insinuated that he was planning to get him drunk—that he had a very high tolerance for alcohol.

"No, you just disgust me," Bones grumped. "S'about time for us to go home anyway, boys. We've all gotta be to work early tomorrow." He edged out of the seat and stretched as he stood, accentuating the curve of his spine. Jim looked over at Chekov, innocent little Chekov, who was pointedly trying and failing not to peak at Bones ass, and found himself snickering internally.

"Nyota, I believe it may be time for us to depart as well," Spock said stiffly as Jim slid out from his side of the table. "McCoy, Chekov, I have found our brief conversation to be pleasant. Kirk…" Jim's head swung around at the sound of his name. Emotion flitted through Spock's eyes, but it was gone before Jim could figure out what it was. "I will see you in the morning. Make sure you are on time."

Jim watched Spock as they left, not even noticing Uhura as she tried to say goodbye to him. Somehow, he thought Spock's eyes had been trying to tell him something, but for the life of him, he couldn't figure out what that something was.

He stood there frozen until a moment later when Bones gathered Jim and Chekov up and dragged them out the door.

* * *

I hope you guys enjoyed the second part of RocketMan. Right now, I'm thinking there are going to be five or six parts total (although, considering the fact that it was originally supposed to be one to two parts max, that number is subjective). I also hope that you guys are okay with the Bones/Chekov thing. I wasn't originally going to make it very obvious, but Bones isn't exactly subtle and Chekov is surprisingly less innocent than I was planning on making him. Ah, stuff happens, right? :P

As for the Jim/Spock/Uhura dynamic, I did want to reassure everyone that there is not going to be any Jim/Uhura or Spock/Uhura in this fic. Don't get me wrong; I really like Uhura. She is strong and independent and fierce, but I do NOT see her as a good match for either Spock or Jim. Plus, I don't write het. It's just not my thing. Anyway, in this fic, I wanted her to have a love/hate relationship with Jim, because really, it is much more fun to see them banter than to see them spew vitriol at each other. So yeah, I hope you enjoyed what I did with it. :)


	3. Part 3

Summary: Jim Kirk programmed the computer system for the starship, _Enterprise_. When one of the crewmen on the _Enterprise's_ first mission to Mars is injured, Starfleet asks Jim to step in. Kirk/Spock AU, fusion with RocketMan.

A/N: Yay! I finished another chapter! XD I apologize for the pacing of my updates. I've been posting once a month instead of twice a month like I had planned, but considering the fact that I'm writing both this and Looking For Shooting Stars at the moment on top of school and dealing with my family, I think that's about as fast as I can go. Oh, and for those of you who do read LFSS as well, I would like you to know, I am working on it. School seems to have gotten a bit more time-consuming as of late (due to a difficult project for one of my classes), and fanfiction has had to go on the back burner. However, I got my project turned in, and the next update should be ready in the next week or so. :)

As for this chapter of RocketMan, well, I did my best with describing all of the trials Jim has to go through. If you aren't getting a clear picture of what some of the machines look like though, you might want to google them.

Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy. XD

* * *

RocketMan Part 3

Jim's head didn't hurt the next morning, but everything felt a bit muffled. He wasn't exactly hung over—he hadn't had enough to drink for that, _thank god_—but he still felt fuzzy. After fifteen minutes of staring up at his ceiling waiting for things to come into focus, Jim finally admitted defeat and decided that he should just get up before he made himself late.

He groaned as he sat up and looked at the clock. It was already seventeen past seven in the morning, and he had to be at Starfleet by eight. The walk itself would only take about five minutes, but even so, he didn't want to end up getting there late if he didn't have to.

And so, he hurried through his morning routine, showering, shaving, and dressing in record time. He walked into the kitchen, still running his fingers over his hair in an attempt to get it to lie somewhat flat. (It didn't work, of course.) Bones and Chekov were sitting at the table, and while the twenty-year-old was looking all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed—Jim hated morning people—Bones was looking about as unenthusiastic about being awake as Jim felt.

"Heya, Bones," Jim said as he stole a piece of toast off of the man's plate and sat down across from him.

"Keep your damn hands to yourself," Bones grumbled in what Jim thought was supposed to be a menacing tone.

He didn't try to take the food back though, so Jim took a large bite off of one corner and looked at his other roommate. "Morning, Chekov."

"Hello, Jim," Chekov replied cheerily. "Zhere ees coffee ower zhere eef you want eet."

Jim gave him a grateful smile. "I really want to kiss you right now," he said as shoved the rest of Bones's toast into his mouth and stood up. He poured the coffee into a cup and took a sip. Fuck, that was heavenly.

"Why, Jim," Bones said. "That's practically pedophilia." Huh, so apparently he _was _upset that Jim had stolen his food.

Jim snorted. "Right," he responded dismissively. "I don't want to hear that from _you_."

Bones stiffened and scowled at him over Chekov's oblivious head. "I don't know what you mean." Then he changed the topic. "Don't you have to be at Starfleet soon? It's almost eight."

Jim looked at the clock. Eight forty-five. Oh what a dilemma. Get to Starfleet early, or stay here and fuck with Bones some more? Jim sighed. He supposed he should at least try to be somewhat responsible.

"Fine, fine. I'm going," he relented, raising the only slightly cooling coffee to his lips and swallowing the rest of it in a few large gulps. "Will I see you guys today?"

"We will be…" Chekov started.

Bones moved over to him quickly and wrapped an arm around the boy's head so that he could clap one hand over his mouth. "We can't say anything about the trials, Jim," Bones said, grimacing. "We're under orders."

"But you will be there?" Jim asked.

Bones just nodded, and Jim's shoulders relaxed a bit in relief. At least there would be a few people there who were rooting for him.

Jim picked up his wallet and keys off of the counter and pushed them into his pockets on his way to the door. He looked back at Chekov, who still had Bones hand covering his mouth, and unable to resist getting one last parting shot, he said, "Wow, Chekov. The last time I saw a guy hold his breath _that _long he was on his knees."

Bones let go of Chekov with a startled, "Jim!", and Jim walked all the way to Starfleet with a big, stupid grin on his face.

* * *

Chris met him at the front doors when Jim arrived at Starfleet. Jim had to admit that he was kind of surprised. He had expected that he would be taken to the test site, but he had anticipated being taken there by Nero or one of his flunkies if the guy couldn't be bothered. Getting Chris instead was definitely a plus in his books.

"Jim," he said, his voice relieved. "I'm glad you made it on time." He took a deep breath. "Nero is already looking for an excuse to kick you to the curb," he confided. "I've been trying to convince him to be objective about all of this, but that man's as stubborn as they come."

Jim shrugged. "I'm just happy I'm being given the opportunity to try." He wasn't sure he felt that way inside, but telling Admiral Nero to fuck off _again_ would probably not be in his best interest.

Chris led him further into the compound, turning to Jim as they passed through the first set of doors. "I can't tell you what the tests are going to be, Jim," Chris said. "Nero told everyone that we weren't allowed to tell you." The older man looked like he wanted to say something about that, but instead he took a deep breath and calmed himself down. "I can tell you that none of these tests are things that you will have any problem with. In fact, considering the things you used to get up to as a child, you might even enjoy them." Chris smiled crookedly at him before ushering him into a room off the main hall. "First things first though, we have to introduce you to someone."

There were several people in the room that Jim recognized, the most notable of which was Commander Spock who had his back to the door as he talked to…

Holy fucking hell. "Uhura?" Jim blurted out.

Chris looked at him. "You know her?"

The shock was beginning to wear off, so Jim just shrugged. "Not really," he replied. "I met her at the bar last night. She was out with Spock."

Chris nodded. "Spock's the one who recommended her. After you rejected his offer, Nero was eager to find another option as soon as possible. Though both Spock and I advised him to give you time to think about it, Nero insisted on finding someone else."

Jim eyed Spock as he spoke with Uhura. The Vulcan had wanted him for this mission. Why else would he request that Nero (the asshole Admiral) give Jim time? Why else would he give him what passed for an inspirational speech when they had bumped into each other in the guy's lab? Regardless of the fact that Spock had recommended Uhura, Jim was sure that Spock wanted _him_ to go on this mission.

Because he had been watching, Jim knew the minute the Vulcan decided to turn and acknowledge them. "Mr. Kirk," Spock greeted. "Captain Pike, I do not believe you are acquainted with Lieutenant Uhura. She was one of my brightest students at the Academy. Nyota, this is Captain Pike."

Uhura extended a hand. "It is nice to meet you, sir."

Chris shook it firmly while Jim just grinned at her. "Couldn't stay away from me, could you?" He waggled his eyebrows at her.

Uhura rolled her eyes, but didn't get a chance to respond as Admiral Nero strode into the room, Bones and Chekov following at his heels. "We're all here, I see," Nero observed. "Pike, I want you to take Mr. Kirk to his first test. Commander Spock, please escort Lieutenant Uhura to hers. The first test must be completed within an hour, and then they will switch."

Both Chris and Spock responded in the affirmative, and Nero was gone again before Jim could blink.

* * *

The first thing Jim saw when he entered the room was a giant set of rings situated around a seat, a circuit board firmly attached to the front. "Sweet swirling onion rings," Jim said softly, barely able to contain his glee. The first test involved a god damned gyroscope. He had seen something like this on TV once, but he had never thought that he would ever get to try one out. Chris had been totally right. This was fucking awesome.

"Okay, Jim, I need you to get in the chair…" Chris looked up to find that Jim had already climbed in. Jim was nearly beside himself with sheer delight. He couldn't wait until this thing got moving. "Ah, good, now complete the circuits as fast as you can on my mark." He pulled a stopwatch from his pocket. "Three, two, one, go!"

Jim muttered to himself as he worked. This particular circuit board wasn't complex. It was made up of a bunch of black and red cables with matching input/output jacks for each one. The tricky part was that there were multiple wires that all looked the same, and he had to figure out which one went in which hole. Jim felt that he had an advantage though, because while most programmers were better with the software than the hardware, he had considered it his job to know all aspects of his technology, inside and out. In fact, the most of the circuits he was currently completing had been built from designs he had included when he sent them the final version of the _Enterprise's _operating system.

"Done!"

Chris hit the button on the stopwatch and stared at him in amazement. "Jim, this is the fastest time I've ever seen."

Jim shrugged. "Yeah, well, I designed most of these circuits. This is the first time I've seen them in 3D, but they're still of my creation."

Chris grinned at him. "Well, either way, you did great. Let's see if you do so well when it's moving." He walked over to Jim and disconnected all of the circuits.

Jim smirked back at Chris. "Are you going to start doubting me now?"

Chris didn't answer, instead going to the panel that controlled the gyroscopes movements and flipping the switch.

Putting the circuits together while being jerked in a million different directions was not anywhere near as easy as doing it when he had been upright. Jim wanted to win though. He wanted to be the best and go up into space with Spock and Bones and Chekov. He wanted to earn that honor, and that meant that he had to buckle down and fucking do it. The first wire was the most difficult to grab, but once he had it in his hand, once he had felt for the nodule that indicated just which circuit it was supposed to complete, once he had slotted it into the correct jack, he felt a renewed sense of purpose, and everything got so much easier.

Less than three minutes later, Jim once more yelled, "Done," and then, after Chris had stopped the machine, when Jim's head had stopped spinning, he was able to make out the huge smile on the older man's face that meant he had done well.

* * *

Uhura walked toward him confidently, her hips swaying with each step as she moved away from the ridiculously awesome machine Jim would give anything to be riding at that moment. Jim didn't spare another glance for Uhura as he moved toward it.

The machine was huge and consisted of a long arm attached to a central column. On the opposite end of the arm, there was a seat. But what did it do? Jim analyzed it for a moment before it finally hit him.

God damn. It was a fucking g-force machine. Jim had heard that Starfleet used it to prepare their officers for the extreme gravitational pull experienced during launch, but he had never in his wildest dreams believed that _he_ would get to go through it too. He knew that a typical launch was only about three Gs, but he wondered if they would let him go even faster. Would they let him get up to five Gs? Six? Hell, seven?

Jim was practically salivating as he looked at the machine, but before he could climb aboard, a hand smacked down on his shoulder, bringing him out of his 'human centrifuge' induced trance.

"Feeling sick, Kirk?" Uhura asked, a hint of amusement in her eyes. Jim just looked at her like she was crazy. Was she mistaking his expression of dazed wonderment for his 'I'm about to puke' face? "You're not going to get very far if you can't handle a few curves."

"Oh, I can handle curves," Jim responded teasingly. "The interesting thing is that, based on your satisfied expression, you can too." He grinned at her lecherously.

Uhura's lips twitched, but instead of smiling (like she so obviously wanted to), she merely flipped her hair back over her shoulder and walked away from him. Jim couldn't resist watching her leave—she really did have a great ass—and after a quick look around to see if anyone had noticed, he realized that he wasn't the only one who had been staring.

Chris cleared his throat behind Jim, startling him. Jim hadn't even realized the guy had come back from the control room. "Let's get you strapped in, Jim," he said, putting one hand on Jim's shoulder and leading him forward. "They're going to start you off nice and easy, and then, depending on your reactions, they'll increase the speed until you tell them to stop." Jim sat down in the seat and buckled up the harness. "I'll be in the control room." He indicated the glass window behind which Nero, Spock, and a few other people were standing and watching them. Jim noticed that Bones and Chekov were also there and waved at them enthusiastically before looking back at Chris, who smiled at him encouragingly. "Good luck, Jim."

Jim didn't even have time to respond before Chris was gone, and his seat was lifting away from the ground as the arm moved up the central column. He jerked a bit when it finally locked into position.

And then, it started spinning. Very, very slowly.

Jim was disappointed. Where was the speed Jim had been waiting for? It was obviously time for him to do something about it.

"You know," Jim said loudly, hoping they could hear him. "My elderly next door neighbor can move faster than this."

They must have heard him because a moment later, his seat was moving around the room at twice the speed. It still wasn't enough though. He wanted to go _fast_.

Jim yawned, stretching his arms up over his head. "What do you know?" he mused aloud. "We've finally matched the carousel they always have at the local fair. You know the one, don't you? The one that's been in operation for the last twenty years?"

Once again, the machine's momentum increased. He must be at three Gs now. He wanted to be at four. "Faster!"

He felt a definite jump in the speed, and he let out a whoop. Now it was getting fun. He could feel his face contorting as the gravitational effect of the centrifugal force pulled at his skin, but he didn't care. This was making his fucking day.

_Even if I don't get to go up into space,_ Jim thought. _Even if Uhura beats me, just getting to do this is a hell of a consolation prize._

And if that is all it would ever be, well, he was going to take advantage of it. He screamed once more for them to go faster.

* * *

Jim was preoccupied with flattening his hair back down when Chris hurried into the room, a huge grin splitting his face in two. "Jim, you beat the record."

Jim just looked at him, nonplussed. "What record?"

"The record for most Gs. Spock's record," Chris clarified. "You broke it."

"I broke Spock's record?" Jim wasn't sure whether this was a good thing or a bad thing.

"You were going _seven Gs_, Jim," the older man said excitedly. "Spock's record was for six. That combined with your ridiculously good times on the circuit board mean Nero is definitely going to have to take you into serious consideration for the mission."

Jim's eyes widened. "How did, uh…" He trailed off. Did he really want to know? Yes, he decided. He really did want to know. "How did Spock take the whole 'me beating his record' thing?"

Chris shrugged. "Not sure, Jim. It's hard to tell with Vulcans. They don't really give away all that much in their facial expressions. He did raise his eyebrow, but I'm not sure if that means he's upset about it or merely curious." He shook his head and helped Jim out of his seat. "That doesn't matter right now. We have to get you to the next test. This one is going to be a face to face competition." He led Jim out of the room and over to a door a bit further down the hall. He opened it and ushered Jim inside. "You and Lieutenant Uhura are going to be competing to see which one of you can hold their breath the longest."

Jim looked around the room and saw that Uhura was standing next to Spock and Nero against the wall opposite the door. He ignored Nero and Spock—looking at the Vulcan was a sure way to end up with sweaty palms—and winked at Uhura. "I see you survived the swirling onion rings of doom."

Uhura snorted. "And apparently you can handle curves. Congratulations, you _are_ a real boy."

"You're blockin' the door, Jim," a voice said behind him.

Jim turned and smiled as Bones and Chekov pushed past him.

"Hello, Jim," Chekov said cheerily. "You did wery, wery good on zhe last test."

"Thanks, Chekov," Jim replied. "So, Bones, you and Chekov here to give me advice on holding my breath?" he asked teasingly, waggling his eyebrows a bit to make sure Bones understood what he was implying. "Because I'll have you know…"

"Jim, if you're going where I think you're going with that, I don't think you want to be finishing that thought," Chris interrupted quickly. Jim saw Chris's eyes flick to Nero and got the message.

"Right, well, what I meant was…" Chris glared at him. "You know what, never mind."

Bones clapped him on the shoulder, squeezing it tightly to let him know that he also knew what Jim had been planning on saying, and he was going to get him back for it later. "Let's get you hooked up to the vasculatory sensor," he said, pushing Jim along roughly. "We wanna make sure that your heart rate is within the expected levels, just in case. It also does a total survey of your circulatory, pulmonary and vascular systems so that we can make sure your body is handlin' the lack of oxygen."

"Ow!" Jim cried as Bones yanked up his shirt and slapped the sensors onto his chest. "That hurt, Bones!"

"Don't be a baby," Bones replied, smacking another pad down on his arm.

Jim huffed and decided to ignore the other man. He wouldn't give Bones the satisfaction of reacting. He raised his head and his eyes met Spock's. Fuck, he had been trying to avoid thinking about the fact that the Vulcan was in the room. Unfortunately for him, Spock was not only in the room, he was also looking straight at Jim with the oddest glint in his eyes. Jim couldn't place it because there wasn't a facial expression to go along with it, but he tried to analyze it anyway. What did it mean? Did Spock hate him for beating his record? Was it approval or curiosity or—dare he even hope—jealousy? Was Spock upset that someone else was touching him?

No, that couldn't be it. Spock hadn't spoken to him at all today, and he sure as hell hadn't shown any indication that he even liked Jim, let alone the feelings he would have to have in order to be jealous. Jim shook his head. He needed to stop giving himself false hope.

Across from him, Uhura was being hooked up to an identical sensor by Chekov, who was happily babbling away to her in Russian, which she was apparently fluent in judging by the way she was responding in kind. Damn, sexy, smart, and multilingual? If she was gunning for Spock—from his observations of her last night, Jim was sure that she was—he didn't stand a chance.

"Okay, Jim," Bones said, interrupting his depressing thoughts. "All you need to do is keep the ping pong ball in the air." He pointed to a clear plastic tube in the middle of the table they were standing in front of. Jim looked closer. Sure enough, there was a ping pong ball at the bottom of the tube. "Take a deep breath and then put your lips around the breathing tube when give you the signal. As long as you don't let go, the ball will stay in the air. Once it drops, we'll mark your time."

_Here goes nothing. _And when Bones nodded his head, Jim bent down to take the breathing tube into his mouth.

* * *

The last test was the longest, and the most boring. Jim didn't think he would be able to say that after the stupid breathing test—all they had learned was that both he and Uhura could only hold their breath for the average amount of time for their gender—but the isolation chamber definitely took the cake on that one. He had been in here five minutes and already he was going out of his mind from lack of stimulation.

Fuck, he wished he had thought to bring his pocket chess set. He didn't even need an opponent; he could play against himself if he had to. He just needed the board.

Or did he? Jim had played chess without the equipment on several occasions, sometimes when he was bored, others when he was trying to calm himself down. It wasn't very hard. All he had to do was remember where he had placed each piece, and Jim had a very good memory. Even so, it helped to say the moves out loud, and hell, this was an isolation chamber. It wasn't like anyone was going to be able to hear him.

"Pawn to E4."

* * *

When they opened up the chamber twenty-four hours later, Jim was in the middle of recreating the final match of the Chess World Championships. The first person he saw was Uhura, and that was only because she stormed up to him, enraged.

"Holy shit, what happened to you?" he asked in surprise. Her hair was all over the place. There were bags underneath her eyes and her clothes were, for lack of a better word, frumpy. What the fuck had happened?

"What _have_ you been doing in here?" she demanded. "You've been talking to yourself all night."

Jim's eyes widened. "You could hear me?"

"Yes, I could hear you," she huffed, putting her hands on her hips.

"Oops."

Uhura just looked at him for a moment, completely incensed, and then she moved as if she was going to throttle him. Before she could touch him, a man grabbed her shoulders and pulled her back through the door. "C'mon, lass. It's a wee past yer bedtime."

Uhura looked at the man in confusion. "Who…?"

Jim didn't hear anymore because suddenly, Spock was in front of him. "Rook to E2," he said softly.

Jim gaped at him. "What are you doing?"

Spock tilted his head and raised one eyebrow. "I believe that you are in the middle of a game. As Vulcans possess senses superior to those of humans, I have been able to hear you as you played. I wish to complete this game with you. Is this agreeable?"

"Yes!" Jim practically shouted. Fuck, he needed to calm himself down, but it was so hard to do when Spock was staring at him with such focus. "Um, pawn to B3."

"Bishop to D4. You are in check, Jim." Jim would swear there was amusement buried deep in Spock's eyes.

Jim quickly immersed himself in the game. He couldn't allow Spock to beat him. He needed to get his head on straight and think all of his moves through.

"King to E7."

Thirty minutes later, when Jim managed to pin down Spock's king, he didn't think he had ever felt more proud. He had just beaten a _Vulcan_ at chess. He was fucking awesome.

And then, later still, when he finally sank down into his pillows and blankets, Jim couldn't help dreaming about the tiny curl at the corners of Spock's lips as the Vulcan gazed at him with surprised pleasure.

* * *

It only took Nero a day to decide who he wanted on the mission and then one more to set up the press conference that was obviously a necessity. Jim knew he wasn't going to be the one going on the mission. The decision had been made too quickly, and he knew he hadn't been the one Nero wanted from the start. He told himself not to feel too bad about the missed opportunity. Going into space was overrated anyway, and it's not like Spock would magically return his feelings if he ended up going. They would just end up spending most of their time awkwardly dancing around the issue of Jim's unrequited… whatever it was for Spock.

Oh, who was he kidding? Jim was crushed that he wasn't going to be able to go. He had at least wanted the chance to go up into space. One time was all he was asking for.

The only thing he could do now was try to hold on to his dignity and keep his feelings about the matter to himself. It didn't matter that he would never be with Spock. It didn't matter that he was going to have to move back in with his mother. It didn't matter that Bones and Chekov probably wouldn't be able to stay in contact after they left for Mars. It didn't matter that he would have to go back to his fucked up life and his boring job, and…

Fuck, it bothered him. It bothered him a lot. He didn't know how to handle it.

Even now, as he sat at a god damn press conference, waiting to be publicly humiliated as Nero announced Cupcake's replacement, he was still trying to get a grip on everything. Why couldn't Nero have just _not _been an asshole for once and told him that he wasn't the one in private? Why did it have to be broadcast on public television?

Nero was at the podium giving a god-awful, horrendously long speech. When would it end? Jim needed to focus on something. He needed to look like he was actually interested. He needed…

His gaze snagged on Spock's ear, which was just barely visible to Jim from his position on the opposite side of Nero. Jim had always fantasized about those ears. They were just so pointy, so exotic. He wanted to touch them. He wanted to kiss them. He wanted to… do other unmentionable and horrifically sappy things to those ears.

Nero's speech seemed to be winding down, and Jim snapped himself out of his pathetic daydreams, hoping nobody had noticed. He needed to listen so that when the moment came, he could graciously concede defeat and shake Uhura's hand.

"We are all pleased to announce that the newest member of the Mars mission is…" He paused for dramatic effect.

Oh, come on. Nero wasn't just going to leave them hanging like that was he?

"James T. Kirk!" Nero concluded.

Jim's head shot up, his eyes wide. _What the fuck!?_

* * *

A/N: So, as always, I would love to hear from you guys. Please let me know what you think. XD

Oh, and did you guys catch Scotty's cameo appearance? I really couldn't resist. ;)


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